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Colonel Jeremiah Wadsworth 
Branch Connecticut Society 

of the 

Sons of the American Revolution 

THE BRITISH ATTACK AT BUNKER HILL 

by 

Francis Parsons 




Publication No. 3 



Published by the Branch 

through the favor of 

Captain Clarence Horace Wickham 

192 1 



Digitized by the Internet Archive 
in 2010 with funding from 
The Library of Congress 



http://www.archive.org/details/britishattackatbOOpars 



THE BRITISH ATTACK 
at BUNKER HILL 



A Paper read at a meeting 
of the Colonel Jeremiah 
Wadsworth Branch, Con- 
necticut Society of the Sons 
of the American Revolu- 
tion, Hartford Club, April 
9, 1920. 



By 

Francis Parsons 



Author of "Modern Militia Training," "Elisha Williams — Soldier, 
Minister, President of Yale College," etc. 



Colonel Jeremiah Wadsworth Branch 

Connecticut Society 

Sons of the American Revolution 

Elected October 21st, 1920 
Officers 1920-1921 

George S. Godard, President 

F. Clarence Bissell, Vice-President 

Charles G. Stone, Secretary-Treasurer 
Frank B. Gay, Historian 

Rev. Arthur Adams, Ph.D., Chaplain 
Leverett Belknap, Necrologist 

Edward W. Beardsley, Auditor 

EXECUTIVE BOARD 

Meigs H. Whaples 

Term expires in 1921 

Edwin W. Schultz (New Britain) 

Term expires in 1922 

John Spencer Camp 

Term expires in 1923 

BOARD OF MANAGERS 

Dr. George C. F. Williams 

Clarence H. Wickham Martin Welles 

Charles Hopkins Clark Charles G. Stone 

Louis R. Cheney Frank B. Gay 

Andrew J. Sloper (New Britain) Leverett Belknap 

Harry R. Williams Herbert H. White 

John M. Parker, Jr. Alfred Spencer, Jr. 

STANDING COMMITTEE 

George H. Sage, Chairman 
Albert C. Bates Dr. Frederic T. Murlless, Jr. 

Lucius B. Barbour George B. Alvord 






The British Attack at 
Bunker Hill 



The fight at Bunker Hill was, in a sense, an im- 
promptu engagement. It assumed the proportions 
of a battle with a suddenness that necessitated swift 
decisions by the commanders on both sides and hurried 
dispositions of troops. Under these circumstances 
it is natural that the action should have left a train 
of discussion even more pronounced than, with old 
battles, is generally the case, as to whether these deci- 
sions and dispositions were the best that could have 
been made in the contingencies that occurred. Com- 
mentators have also speculated uselessly, of course, 
but at length, on what different and momentous 
results might have followed from other courses of action. 
It may be a surprise to many readers to learn that 
there is even a difference of opinion as to what did 
actually occur at Bunker Hill. For every American 
school boy is supposed to know the story of that 
portentous day. Was it not simply the account of 
three frontal assaults of the provincial lines which 
were partly entrenched, party defended only by the 
famous Rail Fence? 

In a general way the answer is in the affirmative. 
Yet the tactical and strategic plan of these attacks, 
their variation at different points, the timing of them, 
their method and sequence, are still matters of some 
controversy. A review from the British standpoint 
of the old story, in the light of such recent discovery 
and comment as is at hand, may even now be of some 
interest. 

It has been often stated that the fortification on the 
night of June 16-17, I775j o^ the Charlestown heights 
was undertaken by the provincial authorities with the 

— 3 — 



purpose of forestalling the occupation of the same 
heights by the British. While this statement is accu- 
rate so far as it goes, some amplification of it is needed 
for an intelligent understanding of what followed. 
We know now that the anticipated British action 
involved something more than mere occupation of 
this particular vantage point. The seizure of the 
Charlestown peninsular, agreed upon by the British 
generals on June 12th and scheduled for the i8th, was 
in fact to be merely an incident of a far-reaching plan 
which if successful would have resulted in raising the 
siege of Boston. Simultaneously with the occupation 
of the Charlestown area a British attack was to be 
launched against the opposite end of the American 
lines at Dorchester, and pushed through to Roxbury. 
The heights above Charlestown were to be used as a 
kind of advanced base from which the American 
left wing would be rolled back upon the Cambridge 
headquarters, while the American right was des- 
perately engaged in the region of Dorchester and 
Roxbury. 

This plan of the British generals obviously involved 
a great battle, covering an extended terrain, but if 
reasonable co-ordination on the different sectors was 
attained, and the undisciplined enemy acted as raw 
troops usually did act under tension, success seemed 
assured. 

The military leaders of the colonists, however, were 
promptly informed through their loose but effective 
espionage system of the proposed move. They un- 
doubtedly realized that if they waited inactively 
for such a movement to develop they were in all 
probability lost. Something had to be done and 
done quickly. 

Putnam had before this been urgent for the occupa- 
tion of the heights of Charlestown ^ and Ward, com- 
manding the Massachusetts troops, now fell in with 
the proposal so far as to detail for this purpose about 
eight hundred Massachusetts men, to whom were 
added one hundred and twenty Connecticut men 
under Captain Knowlton of Ashford. Apparently the 
purpose was to establish at least a foot-hold in advance 



upon one of the points where the approaching British 
drive was to be made and to impede and clog that 
drive, so far as proved practicable, without risking too 
much. The comparatively small numbers of the 
detail, however, and also Ward's tardiness in reinforcing 
it later — on both of which points much criticism 
has been spent — were doubtless due to Ward's per- 
fectly natural belief, first, that the detail would en- 
trench on Bunker Hill proper, not on Breed's Hill, 
and that the British would not concentrate imme- 
diately against these hasty works in that position, and, 
secondly, that when the attack came it would be part 
of the larger effort which he knew had been planned, 
in which event he would need the main part of his 
forces around Roxbury, Dorchester and the approaches 
to Cambridge from Charlestown Neck. In the light 
of modern knowledge it would seem that he had much 
reason for this belief and for the caution he showed. 

But that part of the Charlestown heights known 
locally as Breed's Hill was within twelve hundred yards 
of the British batteries on Copp's Hill in Boston. 
The provincial detail, after a good deal of discussion 
among their officers, built their little fortification 
there instead of upon Bunker Hill proper, which was 
then behind them. In this advanced position they 
literally looked down upon the decks of the Lively, 
the Symmetry, the Glasgow, and other enemy war- 
ships in the harbor. To the British it was intolerable 
that that small earthwork, erected in a few hours 
of darkness, should remain in the rebels' hands. What 
Ward intended as a stop-gap against an attack coming 
twenty-four hours later became for the British not 
only a challenge but an actual and immediate menace. 
At a hastily called council of war it was decided that 
the only thing to do was to go out and take it. Possibly 
the first thought was still to continue the larger scheme 
of June 1 2th, anticipating by a day the seizure of 
Charlestown. This is evidently what Ward believed 
and the fact that the first British troops sent to the 
Charlestown promontory carried three days' rations 
has been cited as evidence that his belief was correct. 
But as the task of taking and holding the Charlestown 

— 5 — 



heights grew more difficult as the day wore on, more 
troops were required and the greater plan was aban- 
doned. 

The first theories of the British generals as to the 
method of taking the colonists' Redoubt differed. The 
Charlestown peninsular was shaped like a pear, and a 
neck of land, corresponding to the stern, connected 
it with the mainland. Clinton and a majority of the 
council favored the occupation of this neck and the 
cutting off by this means of the defenders of the Redoubt. 
Gage, however, over-ruled this plan, apparently on 
the ground that such action would violate the cardinal 
principle of grand tactics to the effect that an attack- 
ing force should never place itself between two enemy 
bodies. For this decision Gage has been severely 
criticised. The rest of the story should show how far 
that criticism was deserved. It is sufficient here to 
emphasize the fact that at the time the decision was 
made a frontal assault of the small rebel post looked 
like a comparatively easy task. 

This task was entrusted to the senior major-general. 
Sir William Howe, brother of Admiral Lord Howe, then 
in England, and of George, Lord Viscount Howe, 
beloved alike by all British and Colonial soldiers who 
served with him, and who was killed at Ticonderoga 
in 1758. 

Sir William Howe seems to have been the least 
attractive of these brothers. Though he was a brave 
man his personal character had many defects. He 
was in fact a type of the hard-living, selfish, fearless 
British officer of the period. Nearly forty-six years 
of age at the time of the battle, he had made some 
enemies who did not hesitate to voice their opinions 
that his advancement was due to his connection with 
the reigning family of Great Britain, his mother having 
been the natural daughter of George L He was there- 
fore a cousin of his sovereign*. He was an Eton boy, 
and entered the army early as a cornet in the Duke of 
Cumberland's dragoons. Personally he seems to have 
been sensual and to a degree unscrupulous. He hated 
business and was sullen and gloomy in manner. He 
had, however, the faculty of attaching his friends 

— 6 — 



warmly to himself — perhaps because he spent much 
of his time carousing with them. Though as Americans 
we can not be in the least proud of the unprincipled 
American girl who, during his three years' service in 
America, was openly known as Howe's mistress, some 
writers have not hesitated to assert that she unwittingly 
performed a patriotic service through her demoralizing 
influence. In Howe's defence we must remember his 
training and the life of men of rank in his day. Better 
men morally than he have been physical cowards, but 
no one has ever questioned his personal bravery — 
and surely no man ever exhibited greater steadiness 
under conditions making for demoralization and even 
panic than did Howe at Bunker Hill. 

With Howe as second in command went Brigadier 
General Robert Pigot. Of his personal character we 
know little except that he was a good soldier and 
received steady advancement in which his services 
in this battle had their share. He was made major- 
general in 1777 and lieutenant-general the following 
year while still serving in the American war. In 1783 
he succeeded to the hereditary baronetcy of his family 
which had perhaps its chief claim to fame through the 
ownership of the "Pigot Diamond." In stature he 
was very short. 

At the time of the battle each line regiment of the 
British army had as part of its organization one com- 
pany of grenadiers and one of light infantry. Fre- 
quently these ''flank companies," as they were termed, 
were detached from their units and brought together, 
respectively, as special corps for special work. This 
course was followed in this instance, Howe taking over 
with him from Boston, toward twelve o'clock, to 
Moulton's Point, the easterly part of the Charlestown 
peninsular, ten companies of grenadiers, ten of light 
infantry and the battalions then in Boston of the Fifth 
and Thirty-eighth Regiments — about 1,100 men in 
all. 

These were soon followed by the battalions in the 
Boston garrison of the Forty-third and Fifty-second 
Regiments. With these came the artillery, twelve 



guns in all — four light twelve-poundersj four 5^-inch 
howitzers and four light six-pounders. Only eight 
of these guns got into action. This addition brought 
Howe's force to about 1,600 men. Pigot came over 
with the second part of the expedition. 

Howe formed his force in three lines on Moulton's 
Hill, under the shelter of which he had landed, sent 
out advance guards to his right and left fronts and 
went forward to reconnoitre. 

II 

It seems necessary to recur to a homely simile in 
order to assist the reader to visualize the situation. 
Imagine the pear which represents the Charlestown 
peninsular laid on this page in such a way that the 
stem — Charlestown Neck — is at the upper left-hand 
corner, the pear being in such a diagonal position that 
its longitudinal axis corresponds roughly with a line 
drawn from the upper left-hand to the lower right- 
hand corner. An excrescence bulges out toward the 
right from the lower end of the pear. This ex- 
crescence represents Moulton's Point, with its low 
hill, where Howe's attacking party is now formed. 
Boston lies at the bottom of the page. The American 
Redoubt on Breed's Hill, seventy-five feet above the 
water, is situated approximately over the core of the 
pear, and fronts the bottom of the page. 

As Howe advanced to reconnoitre he found himself 
facing, about eight hundred yards away, the easterly, 
or right-hand side of the Redoubt as he looked toward 
it. It is obvious that he could not have observed this 
part of the earthwork very clearly from Boston. He 
now perceived that from the upper right-hand, or 
north-east, corner of the fort the rebels had run out 
an earthen breastwork, diagonally toward their rear, 
nearly one hundred yards long. It terminated at 
a little gully, on the opposite side of which men — 
Knowlton's Connecticut farmers, they were — were 
working fast at building three little low walls, like 
terraces, one behind another, on the shoulder of the 
small ravine. 



Nor was this the end of the defences, for from this 
miniature redan the provincials were beginning to 
occupy an extemporized sort of line, running through 
an obtuse angle, down toward the shore of the penin- 
sular on Howe's right front, where a bluff, eight or 
nine feet high, overhung the beach of the Mystic 
River. Though on comparatively lower ground this 
line traversed a slight rise known locally as the "Tongue 
of Land." It was marked for most of the way by 
ordinary pasture fences, the lower parts generally of 
loose stone, the upper of posts and rails. Howe could 
see the rebels along the part of the line nearest the fort 
and its breastwork reinforcing the upper part of one 
of these fences with hay from the hay-cocks piled up 
near by a few days before. They were stuffing this in 
between the rails already in position and others brought 
from neighboring fences which they were placing 
close to and parallel with the first, till the line began 
to look like a "hedge," as Lieutenant Page of Howe's 
staff, the only member of his military family who 
lived to reach England, afterward called the frail 
defence in his map, or the "breastwork of brush," 
as Lieutenant De Berniere termed it in his. This, of 
course, was the beginning of the Rail Fence. 

Five hundred yards or so behind the line marked by 
the hay fences the rounded summit of Bunker Hill 
rose to a height of one hundred and ten feet above the 
water, and down through the green fields of its southern 
slopes, under the bombardment of the ships and the 
Copp's Hill batteries, Howe saw groups of men filter- 
ing through to the fence line. Indeed the British 
general must have noticed either during this recon- 
naissance or shortly afterward, a considerable body 
of men in pretty good military formation coming over 
the brow of Bunker Hill and heading down the slope 
for the lower ground across which the fences stretched. 
Though Howe did not know it these were Stark and 
his New Hampshire boys whom the British commander 
had occasion to remember all his life. Afterward 
Stark told a friend that as he came down Bunker Hill 
at the head of his regiment he saw the British troops' 

— 9 — 



way ahead of them so plainly that it could not be 
mistaken. 

It cannot be doubted that Howe saw his way as 
instantly as did Stark. Not only technical military 
training, but plain common sense, led inevitably to 
the conclusion that the course to pursue was to make 
the main attack across the comparatively low pastures 
and hay fields against the extemporized "hedges," push 
through this weak line, then swing around to the left 
and take the Redoubt in the rear, at the same time 
demonstrating against it in front. 

In this connection the beach of the Mystic on Howe's 
right — the easterly and north-easterly shore of the 
Charlestown peninsular — was a part of the terrain 
that immediately became of extraordinary interest to 
him. It was sheltered from the fields above it by 
the Httle bluff and was wide enough, allowing for the 
incoming tide, for troops to march in platoon front. 
The rebel line seemed to end at the top of the bluff — 
if indeed at this time it had extended as far as that. 
Here was a ready-made "covered way" that led directly 
around the enemy's left. 

Howe returned to his main lines with his plan of 
attack undoubtedly outlined in his mind. Undoubtedly, 
too, he now realized that he had a more formidable 
undertaking assigned him than he and his colleagues 
had anticipated at their council of war. The affair 
was growing. It looked as if a genuine battle, not 
merely a skirmish with an amateur out-post, was on 
hand. In spite of the bombardment, men continued 
to sift down Bunker Hill toward the American left 
and the "hedge "was extending toward the water and 
was rapidly filling with a thick line of men. As they 
observed the imposing array sent against them, these 
American irregular troops were building up what was 
evidently to be their fighting line with ever growing 
numbers. The extent of the impending conflict was 
increasing by its own momentum. It was at least a 
question whether more British troops would not be 
needed and to be on the safe side Howe sent over to 
the city for them, meanwhile ordering the force now 

— lO — 



landed to take their dinner from the three days' rations 
they had brought with them. 

These last reinforcements were the Forty-seventh 
Regiment of the line, the First Battalion of Marines 
and the three companies each of grenadiers and light 
infantry still remaining in Boston, belonging to the 
Eighteenth, Twenty-second and Sixty-third Regi- 
ments.* Howe estimated that this brought his strength 
to 2,200 "rank and file," which means a total, including 
officers, non-commissioned officers and drummers, of 
something over 2600. 

The last arrivals — whatever the time of their ap- 
pearance — landed near the village of Charlestown, to 
the left of the point where the earlier landings had been 
made. The Marines and the Forty-seventh, either at 
first or later in the action, formed the extreme left of 
the British left wing, the whole of which was placed 
under Pigot's command. On the right of the Forty- 
seventh the six companies of grenadiers and light in- 
fantry were stationed, and on their right came the 
Forty-third which was marched over from Moulton's 
Hill. Gradually other troops were moved toward the 
left to connect with these. Detachments of the Thirty- 
eighth and the Fifth had been posted as advance guards 
on Howe's landing and had taken position toward his 
left front where they were sheltered from the Redoubt 
by walls and by a shoulder of Breed's Hill. The 
Thirty-eighth now gathered up its outpost and was 
ready to advance on the right of the Forty-third. 
This was the end of Pigot's command. Next came 
the troops in Howe's immediate charge — the Fifty- 
second and the Fifth whose mission was to support 
the massed companies of grenadiers that brought the 
line on the right to the top of the bank along the 
Mystic. Probably on the first assault these two line 

*Some question has been raised as to whether these last reinforcements ar- 
rived in time to participate in the earlier assaults. Howe's letter of June 22d 
reads as if they did. On the other hand Burgoyne's letter to Lord Stanley 
seems to connect Clinton's going over from Boston for the last assault on the 
Redoubt with his observation of two battalions sent to reinforce Howe's left 
standing on the beach near Charlestown in uncertainty which way to march — 
as if these reinforcements had not been previously engaged. For present 
purposes the question is perhaps not material except to note that without 
this accession Pigot's force, in the earlier attacks, would have seemed very 
small for the task assigned it. 

— II — 



regiments were formed to the left rear of the grenadiers 
who were to advance over the hay fields, crossed by 
the heavy fences and dotted here and there with single 
trees, against the Rail Fence. 

The significant thing, however, about the British 
formation for attack was Howe's disposition of the 
massed light infantry. To the ten companies originally 
sent over he added one from his reinforcements. Four 
of these light companies — those of the Twenty-third, 
Fourth, Tenth and Fifty-^second Regiments — had 
been sent forward toward the Rail Fence as an advance 
guard and formed in a depression a little less than half- 
way from the Hill to the Fence. These companies 
now moved by their right on to the Mystic beach 
where they formed the van of the light infantry column 
that gathered there — the light company of the Twenty- 
third, or Welsh Fusileers leading — the remaining 
seven companies forming in the rear of these four. 

To any impartial observer it must have seemed 
inconceivable that this strong column, eleven companies 
deep, sheltered by the bank on its left, could fail, if 
only through its weight and momentum, to break 
through and around to the rear of the provincial line. 
As by the preliminary movements of these light troops 
their purpose became obvious to the enemy Howe must 
have noticed that from the end of the Rail Fence above 
the shore men were dropping down to the beach and 
hastily piling up an impromptu breastwork of stones 
and sand. These were Captain John Moore and his 
neighbors from Amoskeag who were later supported 
by Walker with his Chelmsford men and the Charles- 
town company of Gardner's regiment commanded by 
Josiah Harris who received his death wound there 
late in the action. But this evident understanding 
of his intentions could not have disturbed Howe. No 
reasonable person could imagine for a moment that a 
few boys and farmers could stop that magnificent 
column of light infantry. 

Toward three o'clock the various units had reached 
their starting points and the stage was set for the 
drama that followed. 

— 12 — 



It was indeed a spectacular occasion. In most 
battles the extent of the fighting is so great, the action 
so broken and localized, that a spectator can obtain 
only the vaguest idea of what is happening. But the 
anxious and excited watchers who on that historic 
summer afternoon crowded the house-tops of Boston 
and thronged the neighboring hills were like the spec- 
tators in the gallery of a theatre. "No national drama," 
said Webster years afterward, "was ever developed 
in a more interesting and dramatic first scene," and 
Burgoyne who watched the fight from Copp's Hill 
wrote back to England that it was a sight for a young 
soldier that the longest service might not furnish again. 
The hot sunshine, slightly tempered by the gentle south- 
westerly breeze, brought every detail into prominence. 
The scarlet uniforms, white cross-belts and glittering 
arms of the British troops as they moved to their 
stations gave all the effect of a pageant. 

There is always a kind of moral influence in what- 
ever strikes the sense of sight as impressive. Not only 
the fine appearance of the British battalions, but the 
inherent logic of the situation, undoubtedly led the 
on-lookers, with feelings of confidence or of consterna- 
tion, according to their sympathies, to prepare them- 
selves to witness within a brief time the smothering 
of those dun rebel lines by these red-coated storming 
troops from overseas — veterans of many battles. 

Howe took post on the right with the grenadiers 
whose objective was the Rail Fence. Below him, on 
his right, on the Mystic beach, the massed light in- 
fantry column was moving slowly forward. Howe 
had sent some of the guns ahead toward some old brick 
kilns that approximately marked the left of the grena- 
diers' sector, with the customary purpose of preparing 
the way for the infantry attack, but the guns were of 
little use till later in the day as they got mired in the 
soft ground that extended southerly from the bottom 
of the little gully at the end of the fort's flanking breast- 
work. Their effect was further nullified early in the 
afternoon by the fact that through an unpardonable 

— 13 — 



error the solid shot furnished was too large for the 
pieces, grape being finally substituted. 

As a rule American writers have paid little attention 
to the personnel of the British storming party at Bunker 
Hill. Most of these regiments were famous in the annals 
of the British army and had seen service on many 
historic battle fields. All of them were destined to 
participate honorably in future wars of the empire, 
including the Great War just ended. The Welsh 
Fusileers, whose light company led the light infantry 
detachment, was called the Prince of Wales' Regiment 
and was noted for its distinguished service, a large 
part of it overseas, and incidentally for the smartness 
of its uniform and equipment. The distinctive "flash" 
of black ribbon, a relic of the old queue, which its of- 
ficers are entitled to wear at the back of the collar, is 
familiar to those who have served with the British in 
recent years. The Forty-third and Fifty-second Regi- 
ments forming now the First and Second Battalions 
respectively of the Oxfordshire Light Infantry, had 
still further glory before them as part of the Light 
Division in the Peninsular War, and the Fifty-second 
by its movement at the close of the battle of Waterloo 
on the flank of the Old Guard is thought by many 
students to have been the main cause of Napoleon's 
defeat. In 1765 the Thirty-eighth Regiment, now 
the First Battalion of the South Stafi^ordshires, had 
returned to England from the West Indies after a 
foreign service of fifty-eight years, and since 1774 it 
had been in America. The Forty-seventh, which later 
became the First Battalion of the North Lancashire 
Regiment, had been at Louisburg and Quebec and 
later served in the Peninsular and Crimean Wars, the 
Indian Mutiny and South Africa. 

Many of the officers had seen brilliant service, others 
were destined for great things. James Abercrombie, 
who commanded the grenadiers, was a son of the Aber- 
crombie who commanded the expedition against Ticon- 
deroga, in 1758, and had slept on the same blanket 
with Putnam in the forests about Lake George. Major 
Spendlove of the Forty-third, had served for more than 

— 14 — 



forty years in his regiment, had been wounded on the 
Plains of Abraham and at the capture of Martinique 
and Havana. Pitcairn, who was in immediate com- 
mand of the Marines, was the same officer who had 
ordered the troops to fire on the minutemen on Lexing- 
ton Green. In spite of the popular disrepute among us 
that action has brought him, it is due to his memory to 
say that he was a man of honor, and a courteous and 
accomplished gentleman. Nicholas Addison, a cap- 
tain in the Fifty-second, was a descendant of Joseph 
Addison and was a favorite of Burgoyne. The name of 
Thomas Oldfield, at this time a boy of nineteen, who 
served as a volunteer with the Marines, became a 
synonym for the most gallant courage. While Napoleon 
was on his way to St. Helena he remembered the 
intrepid bravery that carried this man to his death in 
a sortie from St. Jean D'Acre, and spoke of it to the 
officers in whose charge he was. George Harris, captain 
of the grenadier company of the Fifth, afterward served 
with great distinction in India, and was raised to the 
peerage, becoming the first Lord Harris of Sering- 
patam and Mysore. His lieutenant, Francis Rawdon- 
Hastings, afterward Baron Rawdon, Earl of Moira, 
had probably as remarkable a career as any man who 
stood that day on the Charlestown peninsular. Per- 
sonally attractive, and brought by virtue of his position 
into the closest connection with the life of the court, 
he became an intimate of the Prince of Wales and a 
brilHant figure in the English society of his time. At 
one period he was a great friend of Sir William Hamilton 
and his beautiful young wife. He seconded the Duke 
of York in his famous duel with Lennox of the Cold- 
stream guards in 1798, and himself challenged the Duke 
of Richmond during a controversy in the House of 
Lords over his execution of a prisoner in the American 
war. It was to him that Thomas Moore dedicated his 
"Epistles, Odes and Other Poems." His social and 
pohtical success was crowned in 18 13 by his appoint- 
ment as governor-general of India where he carried out 
a bold and energetic policy, in striking contrast to the 
line of action pursued by his predecessors. On the day 
of Bunker Hill he was still a boy, but he acquitted 

— 15 — 



himself so well that Burgoyne wrote home to England: 
"Lord Rawdon behaved to a charm. His name is 
established for life." 

Ill 

About half-past three the British Attack began to 
develop and here we get into the domain of controversy. 
What really happened at Bunker Hill? 

Substantially all modern commentators agree that 
under the British scheme the main blow was to be 
struck by the light infantry on the extreme British right. 
But how did the scheme actually work out under the 
almost unprecedented conditions in which the advance 
instantly became involved? 

These conditions centered, as it were, in the fact that 
as the advance proceeded, even after some of the units 
deployed and began volleying, there was practically 
no return fire from the provincial defences. There 
were, it is true, a few scattering shots, but as soon as 
these broke the silence of the enemy lines the British 
could see men who seemed to be officers moving briskly 
along the hidden ranks evidently threatening the men 
who had fired. At the Redoubt one officer even jumped 
to the parapet and kicked up the leveled muskets. On 
the extreme British left there was a patter of shots from 
among the Charlestown houses which annoyed consider- 
ably Pigot's extreme left units and probably caused 
some losses, growing more serious as the troops went 
on. But on the whole the American line was quiet. 
Clinton, watching with Burgoyne from Copp's Hill 
across the harbor, could not understand the situation 
and began to speculate as to whether the rebels had 
abandoned the works or were going to refuse a battle. 

In June, 1868, Henry B. Dawson, in a comprehensive 
article in The Historical Magazine^ of which he was 
then editor, developed with much ingenuity the theory 
that the refused American left flank, where were the 
Rail Fence and below it on the beach the breastwork 
of stones and sand, was attacked unsuccessfully three 
times before there was any assault whatever upon the 
Redoubt on Breed's Hill which constituted the right 

— 16 — 



of the provincial position, and which, in that writer's 
judgment, was assaulted separately three times. 

In an equally comprehensive address before the 
Bunker Hill Monument Association, published in the 
proceedings of that association for 1907, Lieutenant 
Colonel Horace N. Fisher, fortified by certain pre- 
viously unpublished letters in the Dartmouth and 
Sackville collections of manuscript, argued that while 
there were only three attacks in all, the first of these 
was confined to the Mystic beach. Colonel Fisher's 
theory is that upon the unexpected failure of the light 
infantry here the rest of the british advance was 
halted before getting into action and that the subse- 
quent assaults were two in number — the first against 
the whole American line, the second concentrated 
upon the Redoubt. 

It is rather singular that in the case of such a com- 
paratively simple battle, in a limited and open terrain, 
so much uncertainty as to events should have arisen. 
The difficulty in arriving at the truth is that so much of 
the evidence is conflicting. It is believed, however, 
that a preponderance of it may be discerned. 

Though Dawson's theory is cited with approval by 
Tarbox in his "Life of Israel Putnam," it has not been 
generally accepted. Dawson was essentially a contro- 
versialist — he led the anti-Putnam party in the old 
dispute over the American command at Bunker Hill — 
and in this instance he seems rather to have interpreted 
the data on the battle in the light of a pre-conceived 
idea. Colonel Fisher makes out a good case, though 
his statement of it is in somewhat fragmentary form. 
He seems to rest his general theory of the battle very 
largely upon Howe's statement in his recently dis- 
covered letter to his brother dated June 22d, that the 
Redoubt was taken on the second assault. This is 
unquestionably an important piece of contemporary 
evidence. Yet it runs counter to the general testi- 
mony. How can we account for Howe's statement 
and can we accept it as against the greatly preponder- 
ating testimony of other participants that the Redoubt 
— in fact, the whole American line — was assaulted 
three times .^ 

— 17 — 



We must remember that Howe, in his position with 
the grenadiers before the Rail Fence, could not see the 
front of the Redoubt. He was exceedingly busy that 
afternoon with the appalling events occuring near 
him. His attention must have been concentrated for 
the time being at first upon the object of the grenadiers 
and light infantry under his immediate command of 
getting around the American left, and later upon 
steadying these fine troops in the utterly unexpected 
disaster that came upon them. Certainly he could not 
have followed closely the events in a different part of 
the field which he could not see. We believe that he 
intended the first advance against the Redoubt to be 
in the nature of a demonstration. But the distance from 
Pigot's base of attack to the fortification was shorter 
than from Howe's starting point to the Rail Fence. 
Very likely Pigot got ahead over his shorter route 
faster than was anticipated, while the sandy beach 
made slow marching for the light infantry who were to 
drive the entering wedge on the British right. (It is 
interesting to note that Howe believed the provincial 
left would have been quickly forced except for the 
intervening fences that obstructed the grenadiers.) 
The unforeseen withholding of the insurgents' fire led 
the attack on and on. It would have been fatal for 
Pigot, once fairly started, to have hesitated. Is it 
not possible that, while intending a demonstration, to 
be pushed home on the success of the light infantry and 
grenadiers on the right, Pigot was drawn into an actual 
assault of the fort by the fact that the men in that 
earthwork simply allowed him to approach unmolested? 
It is not incredible that Howe, writing a familiar 
letter five days after the fight, should have had his 
original theory uppermost in his mind. While we can 
not, of course, accuse him of intentional misrepre- 
sentation, we can not forget the fact that he instinctively 
would have been inclined to put the most favorable 
construction possible on events and to have remem- 
bered the first advance against the Redoubt, not as 
an assault, but as the demonstration which in intention 
it was. 



The present writer cannot convince himself of the 
truth of Colonel Fisher's theory that the first of the 
three attacks was carried out only by the light infantry 
and was thus confined to the Mystic beach. The 
testimory of General Dearborn and of Judge James 
Winthrop that the first fire came from the right 
of the American line, or the Redoubt, at least supports 
the old theory of three assaults on that little fortress. 
Swett asserts that at the moment of the attack on the 
Redoubt the British right was about one hundred yards 
from the Fence, and his story, like that of all the earlier 
commentators, including the official American accounts, 
is of three attacks along the whole front. It is impos- 
sible to overlook this general agreement. A logical 
explanation of it may be found in the fact that Howe's 
plan for driving around the American left and going 
slowly elsewhere till that was accomplished, was upset 
by the remarkable failure of the provincials not only 
to give ground anywhere, but even to open fire till 
the whole British advance had gone so far that it was 
inextricably involved in the initial forward move. 

To summarize: Is it not possible to find our way 
between the old theory that there were three suc- 
cessive assaults against the whole provincial front, 
and the recently evolved doctrine that the first attack 
was limited to the repulse of the light infantry on the 
Mystic beach? Tactically the first fighting should 
have been confined to the beach, but through the 
withholding of the provincial fire this became impossible 
because, when the light infantry were stopped at the 
distance of about eight rods from [their |enemy, the 
grenadiers on their left had come too far forward to 
pull out. Nevertheless the significant part of this 
advance was the fight on the beach. Meanwhile over 
on the British left, Pigot, who could not easily time 
his advance by the progress of the light infantry because 
of the features of the terrain, and who was doubtless 
led on by the silence of the Redoubt, got ahead of his 
schedule and drew the first burst of fire of the day from 
that earthwork. 

Thus the first attack was a wave that broke irregu- 
larly and intermittently against the provincial barrier. 

— 19 — 



Encountering unexpected conditions, it developed un- 
expected results. As to the subsequent assaults there 
is no doubt that, in spite of Dawson's arguments, they 
were two in number. 

That first American fire when it came was a withering 
blast that lasted for an appreciable time. The occasional 
firing by the British as they came on was in the form of 
the old-fashioned volleys delivered with little, if any, 
individual aim and with practically no effect. But the 
rebel marksmen did not shoot on general principles 
or for moral effect. They waited till their prey was so 
close they could not miss and then deliberately shot, as 
they had been accustomed to shoot at the game in 
their forests, to kill. On the Mystic beach John Moore 
had driven a stake in the sand eight rods in front of 
his breastwork and told his men to let drive when the 
first British files reached it. The Welsh Fusileers had 
seen many casualties in its famous history, but it is 
safe to say that never before had any of its units suf- 
fered as did its light company on that sandy beach 
under the fire of those Amoskeag minutemen and 
farmers. The light infantry, however, did not give up 
at once. In spite of the sickening slaughter there was 
an effort to push through, but the remarkable thing 
about the enemy's fire was that it continued, and the 
successive files went down around Moore's stake like 
pins in an alley. In a few moments Howe's plan of 
getting around the provincial left here was for the time 
being completely frustrated. 

In the fields on the left of the light infantry, the 
grenadiers fared as badly. It is difficult to accept 
Colonel Fisher's statement that the grenadiers did 
not deploy on the first advance.* We find nothing in 

*In support of Colonel Fisher's assumption that the grenadiers did not deploy 
on this advance he quotes an unidentified British officer who is said to have 
written that the grenadier battalion was "served up in companies in front of the 
grass fence before they could deploy." So far as his researches have gone 
the present writer has been unable to find the source of this quotation and 
Colonel Fisher's death has prevented direct verification. Is it possible that 
the above quotation has been confused with a statement of "an officer in 
Boston" in a letter dated July 5, 1775, and quoted by Dawson, p. 367 from 
"The Detail and Conduct of the American War," as follows: "Our Light- 
infantry were served up in Companies against the grass fence, without being 
able to penetrate . . ."? The similarity of phraseology is certainly 
striking. 

— 20 — 



the general story to support this view. On the contrary 
Captain Chester of Wethersfield, Connecticut, a man 
of intelHgence and education, wrote that the British 
right deployed soon after advancing, Frothingham, 
the historian of the siege of Boston, distinctly states 
that the grenadiers deployed into line in the first 
attack. Judge Thomas Grosvenor of Pomfret, Con- 
necticut, who was at the Rail Fence, asserts that the 
British, (on the first advance) "displayed into line at 
about the distance of a musket shot." An anonymous 
British officer writing from Boston July 5, 1775, says 
that the attacking force "should not have been brought 
up in line, but in columns." 

On this deployment it seems to have been discovered 
that the grenadiers' line was too short to cover the 
ground assigned it and the light company of the Thirty- 
fifth was withdrawn from the column on the beach 
and filled the vacant interval between the grenadiers' 
right and the top of the bank. This company was the 
third unit from the rear of the column of light troops 
and from this we may estimate the distance by which 
the van of the light infantry was at this time in 
advance of the grenadiers. In other words the attack 
by the British right was in echelon, left refused — the 
light infantry forming the advanced unit, the grenadiers 
on their left rear, and the Fifth and Fifty-second con- 
tinuing the echelon to the left. This was the natural 
formation for executing Howe's plan. 

It must have taken some restraint on the part of 
Reed, Stark and Knowlton at the Fence to have kept 
their men quiet when the storm burst on the beach at 
their left, but they too held their fire a few moments 
longer till the buttons of the grenadiers' uniforms and 
the whites of their eyes could be seen. When the long 
volley crashed out from the "hedge" it was followed 
by the same results as on the beach but on a wider 
front and a greater scale. It was augmented, too, by 
the fire of at least two field pieces placed near the little 
redan across the gully from the end of the fort's flank- 
ing breastwork. These guns, partially enfilading the 
grenadiers and opposing a frontal fire to the two line 
regiments on their left, did great execution. 



21 



The slaughter was terrific. It is said that the dead 
and wounded lay in windrows. The officers sprang 
to the front in the effort to rally the shaken ranks and 
lead them on and the American marksmen picked off 
these officers with a deadly deliberation, two or three, it 
is said, firing together to make sure of their effect. 

It is a significant feature of the battle not only that 
the provincial officers were able to control their raw 
troops so far as to effect the withholding of fire in the 
face of intense provocation till the storming force was 
within eight or ten rods, but also that this course of 
action should have been unanimously agreed upon 
throughout the whole provincial line. It was of course 
a development of the ambuscading and forest warfare 
with which many of the older officers and men were 
familiar. From the standpoint of military tactics it 
was the impressive lesson of the day. From Bunker 
Hill dated the development of marksmanship in pitched 
battles. 

In our view of the action it was just before the check 
on the British right that over in front of the Redoubt 
Pigot's "demonstration," which had been trans- 
formed into an assault, had met the same fate as befell 
the grenadiers and light infantry. In Pigot's case 
the situation had been further complicated by the 
desultory firing from the outlying Charlestown houses 
and barns. Toward the latter part of the advance 
this had developed sufficiently to compel Pigot's 
extreme left units to change front to their left and to 
divert them partially from the assault. This fire 
had been so annoying that on the repulse word was 
sent over to Boston and the village was soon beginning 
to burst into flame from the hot shot fired into it from 
the Copp's Hill batteries. At the time this action was 
bitterly resented by the provincial authorities but, 
in the situation that existed, it was unquestionably 
justified. 

On the British left, where the field of battle was 
smaller, and the slopes to the Redoubt steep and with- 
out much cover, the retreat seems to have been pre- 
cipitate, but on the right, efforts were made to hold 
the grenadiers and line regiments, as they reeled back- 

— 22 — 



ward, with sporadic success here and there where 
groups of men were halted and the officers tried to 
get them into some semblance of formation. It was soon 
seen, however, that the disaster had been so shattering 
that no co-ordination could be obtained in the fire 
zone and the groups drifted back toward Moulton's 
Hill and the shore. 

To say that from the British standpoint the situation 
had taken an unforeseen turn is to put the matter 
mildly. Here, in place of the comparatively easy vic- 
tory that had been looked for, was sudden ghastly 
disaster, not unmixed with those elements that pro- 
duce in the human mind unreasoning consternation, and 
in the physical constitution the paralysis of abject 
fear. All soldiers expect to face death. But to meet it 
suddenly in a thousand hideous forms and on the scale 
of a massacre, while conscious of defenselessness and 
inadequacy — that is something that invites the in- 
sanity of terror. There must have been a moment or 
two, as the British battalions broke, when Howe and 
his officers considered with a degree of dismay what 
would happen if the victorious rebels should swarm 
over their defences and force the fight down to the 
water's edge. Howe had no reserves except a guard 
at his boats and with Boston harbor in his rear there 
was no way of further retreat. But though some of 
the American troops jumped over their works and 
made as if to pursue the retreating enemy, their officers 
were shrewd enough to stop at its inception a move 
that, while alluring at the moment, would have been 
disastrous in the end. For, however precarious Howe's 
situation may have seemed temporarily, any such 
advance would have come instantly under a con- 
centrated artillery fire from the ships and the Boston 
batteries, and while these inexperienced troops had 
fought well under cover and on the defensive, their 
cohesion and control in an aggressive movement in the 
open under the severe punishment of the guns pre- 
sented entirely different possibilities. 

— 23 — 



Back at their starting points, and with the danger 
of pursuit rapidly vanishing, the re-organization of the 
decimated British units proceeded rapidly. Orders for 
a second advance were issued and the determination 
of the leaders, at least, was evidenced by the word 
"the works must be taken" which spread through the 
ranks. The burning of Charlestown doubtless added 
its moral quality of encouragement. It was expected 
that the heavy smoke which at first blew across the 
British front would furnish concealment for a time. 
By a freak of ill luck for the British, however, the wind 
shifted slightly as the red-coated troops moved forward 
for the second time and their manoeuvres became as 
evident to the enemy as at first. 

It was at this point that the British commander made 
what seemed to some contemporary and to many 
modern commentators, a vital mistake. Gage may 
have had reasonable grounds for vetoing the landing 
and main attack at Charlestown Neck, but he at least 
saw that that neck was swept by an almost continuous 
fire from floating batteries or "gondolas," which 
materially interfered with the reinforcement of the 
provincial forces on the peninsula and rendered the 
narrow isthmus a place of great danger, though the 
American losses there were surprisingly small. If, 
however, after the lesson of the first advance, even a 
single floating battery had been towed up the Mystic 
and anchored where it could enfilade the east end of 
the Rail Fence, Bunker Hill would have made a dif- 
ferent story. Stedman, a British officer who later 
served in the American war and who wrote a history 
of it, claims that the Symmetry which drew little water 
and mounted eighteen nine-pounders, could have 
gone far enough up the Mystic to have been used for 
this purpose. Such a weight of artillery would inevi- 
tably have been diastrous to this end of the provincial 
line. Incidentally Stedman supports the present view 
of the action by his statement that another error on 
the part of his countrymen was that "instead of con- 
fining our attack to the enemy's left wing only, the 
assault was made on the whole front." 

— 24 — 



Confidence in the face of difficulties is, however, one 
of the admirable traits of the British soldier. He has 
always fought an up-hill fight through to the end and 
Bunker Hill furnished one of the most conspicuous 
illustrations in history of his capacity to do this. Per- 
haps this confidence was sufficient in Howe's case, 
when the first shock of the set-back had passed, to 
convince him that any flanking aid from the water 
was unnecessary; perhaps he did not think of it. At 
any rate, no such move was undertaken, and the 
scarlet ranks moved up again to their doom. 

In the domain of morale there was of course this 
fundamental difference between the first and second 
attacks — in the first the fate that met the advance 
was in the nature of a surprise; in the second the men 
knew what awaited them. At a certain close distance 
they would encounter a deliberate and withering 
blast of death. They were offering themselves as easy 
targets for men who, whatever their lack of discipline, 
had proved themselves deadly marksmen and in whom 
it was reasonable to infer that a heartening experience 
had now bred an undoubted confidence. 

The spirit of the attacking troops was also threatened 
by the purely physical fact that their way lay across 
fields where their dead and wounded lay in all the dis- 
figurement and agony that the missiles of that day 
inflicted. From this fact alone it must have been a 
nerve-racking, physically sickening march, growing 
worse as the long rows of casualties marking the limit 
of the first attack were approached. One who watched 
the scarlet ranks coming forward left the record of his 
astonishment at the discipline that brought these men 
on, stepping over their fallen comrades "as if they had 
been logs of wood." As an exhibition of moral and 
physical courage that advance should remain forever 
memorable. 

Colonel Fisher's theory is that in the first attack, 
which in his view was carried on solely on the beach 
by the light infantry, that fine corps was so cut up that 
it was incapacitated for participation in the second 

— 25 — 



attack, except the light company of the Thirty-fifth 
which, as we noted, held the right of the grenadiers' 
line. However this may be, it is clear that the early 
part of the action demonstrated pretty clearly the 
impossibility of forcing the extreme left of the American 
line on the beach except concurrently with a general 
advance. General Wilkinson states that the light 
infantry was repulsed three times and Dr. Dexter who 
watched the fight from the Maiden side of the Mystic, 
whence the beach formed the foreground of the battle- 
field, left his record that the light infantry as well as 
the grenadiers retreated twice. 

On the whole it seems probable that the remnants 
of the light infantry co-operated in the second attack 
on the beach as before, but that the echelon formation 
as to these troops was abandoned. 

Except for this difference in the use of the light 
infantry and the fact that the burning of Charlestown 
released certain of Pigot's troops from the necessity of 
diversion toward that village, the second attack was 
similar to the first and met the same fate. In their 
confidence the provincials allowed the King's troops 
to come even nearer than before, and it is said that 
some single soldiers of the Fifth and Fifty-second 
Regiments, plunging desperately forward through the 
smoke of the long volley, got into the American lines at 
the entrenchment, dying there an instant later. The 
Fifth Regiment seems to have been directed around 
the head of the marshy ground, the Fifty-second directly 
against the entrenchment. The British did not at once 
fall back, and the firing at close quarters continued for 
nearly twenty minutes. 

As before the British losses were frightful. "I never 
saw sheep lying thicker in a sheep fold," said Stark, 
"than the British Regulars in front of my line." From 
the record of the Fifty-second Regiment, cited by 
Drake, it appears that all of the grenadier company 
were killed or wounded — another account says that 
eight escaped. There were only three men left un- 
wounded in the light company of the Thirty-fifth, 
five in the grenadier company of the Twenty-third, 
and four in that of the Fourth. All these losses 

— 26 — 



did not, it is true, occur in this assault. They rep- 
resent the casualties of the whole action, but they — 
with others in like proportion — are a sufficient com- 
mentary on the deadliness of the fighting at any time. 
Howe was with the left of the grenadiers. At one 
time he was left alone except for a servant — all of his 
staff being killed or wounded that day — and his own 
escape was miraculous. It is said that his white silk 
stockings took a reddish tinge from the bloody grass 
he walked through. Apparently it was near him that 
Abercrombie, commanding the grenadiers, fell mortally 
wounded into the arms of young Rawdon, crying out 
not to hang his old friend Putnam. 

From the Copp's Hill battery in Boston, where Clin- 
ton and Burgoyne were anxiously watching the progress 
of the fight, the events close in front of the Fence 
could not be followed distinctly, but the repulse of 
Pigot's troops in the second assault of the Redoubt 
was as clearly visible as the smoke permitted. Pigot's 
defeat was as definite and as costly as Howe's. In 
the end the British retreated in what seemed un- 
pleasantly like a rout, some of the men in utter aban- 
donment even jumping into the boats moored at the 
shore. The sight was too much for Clinton and without 
waiting for orders he left Burgoyne, his junior, in 
charge at Copp's Hill and had himself rowed over to 
the Charlestown shore, where, ranking Pigot, he led 
his men on the left in the final assault. 

Sir Henry Clinton was a fine officer. He had been 
appointed major-general in 1772 and was at this time 
thirty-seven years of age. His ^death occurred twenty 
years later while he was governor of Gibraltar. Oddly 
enough, he was a native of Newfoundland, of which 
his father, a younger son of the sixth Earl of Lincoln, 
had been governor, and his first military service had 
been with the New York militia. In the fighting in 
Flanders under Prince Ferdinand of Brunswick he had 
acquired an enviable reputation. His gallantry at 
Bunker Hill led to his promotion to lieutenant-general 
in September of this year and in 1776 he was made 

— 27 — 



general. His later services in the American War are 
well known. 

Howe's plan was now radically altered. He was 
convinced of the impossibility of forcing the provincial 
left where the Rail Fence, apparently such a frail 
defense, had proved a stronghold. The alternative 
was to concentrate on the Redoubt. Dispositions 
to this end were at once instituted. Not only in the 
general scheme, but in the individual de.tails were 
changes made. The men had suffered severely from 
the heat and they were now directed to unsling their 
heavy packs. Some even imitated their enemies and 
taking off their coats fought in their shirt-sleeves. The 
orders seem to have been pretty general that the mus- 
kets were not to be loaded. The works were to be taken 
by the bayonet. It was in the guise of strictly "shock 
troops" that the British force moved doggedly out 
again to accomplish its purpose. 

A re-arrangement of this force had been made. The 
Fifth Regiment had been moved over to the left, taking 
post between the Forty-seventh and the Thirty-eighth 
opposite the south front of the Redoubt. What was 
left of the massed light infantry and grenadiers demon- 
strated against the Fence, though at least part of the 
grenadiers seem to have moved eventually by their 
left and, with the Fifty-second, come around against 
the entrenchment and finally against the Redoubt. 
The artillery had got out of the morass, and in this 
as well as in the second attack rendered valuable aid, 
particularly against the entrenchment. Clinton, at 
the extreme left, led the Marines and part of the 
Forty-seventh diagonally leftward up the slopes of 
Breed's Hill around to the westerly side of the 
little fort. Here he seems suddenly to have come 
under the fire of a body of reinforcing provincials, who 
lined a stone wall and filled two unburnt structures on 
the line of Green Street which ran in practical extension 
of the Rail Fence line in the left rear (from the British 
standpoint) of the Redoubt. In the judgment of 
Colonel Fisher, which is entitled to the highest consider- 

— 28 — 



don, this fire was so severe that it was found necessary 
to silence it before the assault could be pushed home. 

There may, however, have been some over-lapping 
of action here, for it is hard to estimate that any of 
Clinton's men, not having allowed in advance for the 
diversion necessary to reduce this force, got as far 
ahead as the vicinity of Green Street before the con- 
centration of the attack on the Redoubt, which seems 
at the end to have converged with considerable rapid- 

The British formation, too was changed. Instead 
of deploying into the old battle line, the units held 
what some authorities claim was a column formation, 
or what the anonymous correspondent of Rivingtons 
Gazette speaks of as an advance "in open order, the men 
often twelve feet apart in the front, but very close 
after one another in extraordinary deep or long files" — 
a disposition approximating the present infantry skir- 
mish drill formation known as squad columns. Though 
the men were widely separated, laterally, the align- 
ment from front to rear and the depth of the arrange- 
ment would naturally give at any distance the effect 
of a column. 

Prescott says that at the end there were not more 
than two hundred men in the Redoubt with him. 
Their ammunition was almost gone and was only 
slightly replenished by the field-gun cartridges which 
were now of no further use for their original purpose, 
the gun platforms having broken down. It was hur- 
riedly arranged that those defenders who had bayonets 
or pikes should remain at the most exposed points 
while the others, after their first volley, should fall 
back to the rear of the Redoubt and use their last 
ammunition against such of the storming troops as 
came over the parapet. 

This time the British columns did not delay to fire 
but came steadily on. The Connecticut and New 
Hampshire men at the Fence waited for another attack 
that never came. At the end they saw the bulk of 
the troops before them shifting to the westward against 
the entrenchment and fort. The British field guns 
were enfilading the end of the former earthwork, and 

— 19 — 



many of its defenders were retreating into the Redoubt. 
The resistance at the entrenchment does not seem to 
have been very determined, but from the Redoubt 
the assaulting columns met the same fierce volley 
they had encountered before. Again the front files 
went down under that deadly, short-range fire, and 
there was a momentary hesitation. Though in general 
there was no return fire, apparently on the extreme 
British left some of the Marines under Clinton, who 
had come around to the right after driving in the Green 
Street line, fired some scattering shots as we gather 
from Adjutant Waller's account. "We were now in 
confusion," he says, "after being broke several times 
in getting over the rails &c. I did all I could to form 
the two companies on our right, which at last I effected, 
losing many of them while it was performing. Major 
Pitcairn was killed close by me, with a captain and a 
subaltern, also a sergeant, and many of the privates; 
and had we stopped there much longer the enemy 
would have picked us all off. I saw this and begged 
Colonel Nesbit of the Forty-seventh, to form on our 
left, in order that we might advance with our bayonets 
to the parapet. I ran from right to left and stopped 
our men from firing; while this was doing, and when 
we had got in tolerable order, we rushed on, leaped the 
ditch and climbed the parapet under a most sore and 
heavy fire." 

The accounts are vague as to who was the first of 
the British to enter the earthwork. One account 
relates that young Richardson, a lieutenant of the 
"Royal Irish" was the first man on the parapet where 
he was instantly killed with the shout of "Victory!" 
on his lips. Another story is that of Dalrymple, a 
lieutenant of the Sixty-third Grenadiers, who is said 
to have scaled the earthen walls near the point where 
the entrenchment was built into them, being shot to 
pieces there as he called his men to follow. The tale 
goes on to tell of the sergeant of the company who 
thereupon took command and led his few remaining 
comrades into the works before any other commis- 
soned officer scaled them. Other traditions claim the 

— 30 — 



honor of the first entrance for other heroes. The fact 
is that everything was in confusion. To the defenders 
it seemed as if the red-coats came over the wall in 
a dozen different places at once. Pigot himself, who 
was a little man, climbed up by the aid of a tree at 
the south angle of the south front, and sprang in, 
sword in hand. The Massachusetts men with the 
remaining ammunition at the rear of the fort delivered 
their fire as the first of the British appeared, and then 
in an instant it became a fierce hand-to-hand fight. 
The officers used their swords freely, men fired into 
each other's faces, lunged at each other with bayonets, 
fought with clubbed muskets and even stones. The 
British suffered heavily, especially in officers. The 
three captains of the Fifty-second, among whom was 
Nicholas Addison, fell on the parapet or the earthwork 
near it. Pitcairn was pierced by three bullets, the 
last one fired by a negro, and fell on the slopes of the 
Redoubt, cheering on his devoted marines, among 
whom was his son. George Harris was wounded on 
the crest of the hill, and was thought to be dying, but 
a few days later was able, through the courtesy of his 
surgeons and an arrangement of mirrors, to enjoy 
the unusual sensation of looking at his own brains, 
which, as his subsequent distinguished career amply 
demonstrated, had not been in the least damaged by 
the rebel musket ball that tore off most of his scalp. 
For some time Prescott would not give the word to 
retreat, and his men fought desperately. The smoke 
and the dust that rose from the dry earth, trampled 
under the feet of hundreds of combatants, added to 
the confusion. In this mist friend and foe were mingled. 
At last Prescott saw that it was useless to hold out, 
and ordered the Redoubt abandoned. He had delayed 
so long himself that he had to cut his way through the 
British, skillfully parrying bayonet thrusts with ^ his 
long sword, and not running, but "stepping long," as 
one of his men proudly tells us. His ,hat was pierced 
by bullets, and his long blue banyan torn by bayonets, 
but he won safely through. Poor Warren was not so 
fortunate. Conspicuous in his fine clothes, he had 
waited until the last, and then retreated over the 

— 31 — 



northwest side of the Redoubt. He had gone a rod 
or so, when, while trying to rally some of his men, a 
musket ball fired at close range, entered the back of 
his head. He fell forward, raising his hand mechani- 
cally to the wound, and in a few moments he was dead. 
Trumbull has pictured Major Small of the Royal 
Marines in the act of saving the dying patriot, supported 
by a negro, from a grenadier's bayonet thrust, but 
Small told Major Alexander Garden, in 1791, that 
Warren was dead when he reached him. There is a 
tradition that Warren's last words were spoken to 
John Chester of Wethersfield, but it is doubtful if the 
Connecticut men were close enough to the Redoubt 
at that time to make this possible. For an hour or 
more the body lay under a little tree near the spot 
where the brilliant young patriot had fallen. It was 
soon indentified by Dr. Jeffries of Boston, who had 
come over with Clinton, but too late to prevent the 
stripping of some of the fine apparel. 

The victors took possession of the Redoubt with 
cheers and began the pursuit of the retreating garrison. 
There is good authority for the statement that it was 
at this time that most of the American losses occurred. 
For a while, in the rear of the Redoubt, the hand-to- 
hand fighting continued, friend and foe being mingled, 
and as the provincials began to extricate themselves 
and drift up Bunker Hill, they came under a punishing 
fire not only of their pursuers but of the ships and 
batteries which had at all times made the southern 
slopes of Bunker Hill a place of great danger. It is 
easy to understand why there had been difficulty in 
getting reinforcements forward earlier in the day. 

Burgoyne, however, has left his testimony that the 
retreat was not a rout, but was "covered with bravery 
and military skill." This was due to the behavior of 
the provincials who had hitherto defended the strong- 
hold of the Rail Fence — particularly to the Con- 
necticut men on the westward end of that line nearest 
the fort. Knowlton had seen at the beginning that 
his fatigue party had double the number of cartridges 
issued to their Massachusetts comrades and that 
forethought now had its reward. Furthermore the 

— 32 — 



original Connecticut detachment had been augmented 
by fresh troops — Coit's and Clark's and Chester's 
companies. These were all good troops, well equipped 
and supplied with ammunition — particularly Chester's 
command which was one of the crack organizations of 
the heterogeneous American army. 

In their pursuit the British found themselves unable 
to turn the line of the Fence from the west just as they 
had been unable to force its easterly end earlier in the 
afternoon. Furthermore, the galling fire they came 
into from their right as they advanced beyond the 
captured Redoubt unquestionably slowed up the pur- 
suit and enabled the men who had been in the Redoubt 
and earthwork and who were not injured, to escape. 
Indeed only thirty of the three hundred and five Ameri- 
can wounded fell into the hands of the victors, and of 
these two-thirds were mortally hurt. This in itself 
is evidence that the retreat could not have been pre- 
cipitate. 

Nevertheless is was obviously impossible for the 
Connecticut and New Hampshire men to hold their 
ground. They fell back over the summit of Bunker 
Hill, which Putnam all day had been feverishly striving 
to fortify, and where the old soldier now stood beside the 
only American field-piece saved, till the British bayo- 
nets were almost on him, begging his boys to make one 
more stand, and in his desperation uttering the good, 
round oaths he afterward publicly apologized to his 



church for using. 



IV 



It was not long after five o'clock that the fighting 
died down and the British were left in possession of a 
field thickly strewn with their own dead and wounded. 

Clinton, who was comparatively fresh and had 
personally experienced only victory, urged Howe to 
continue the pursuit across the Neck. It would have 
been a foolhardy move, for the hills of the mainland 
were swarming with bodies of provincials already 
beginning to dig in, and Howe refused. Clinton would 
have been interested to know that at almost this time 

— 33 — 



Prescott, in the bitterness of a defeat he felt unmerited, 
was promising Ward that if he were only furnished 
with enough troops he would go back and sweep the 
victorious British into the sea. 

But Howe had no intention of pushing further. Even 
such a phlegmatic and selfish spirit as his could not fail 
to have been appalled by the events through which, 
by a miraculous chance, he had just come alive. Of 
his force of something over twenty-six hundred, one 
thousand and fifty-four were killed or wounded, a 
frightful proportion. The provincial losses were about 
four hundred and twenty, but it is difficult to compute 
any proportion here because the numbers on the 
American side shifted with the events of the after- 
noon, and are uncertain at the best. Some estimate 
that as many as three thousand provincial troops were 
in action at different times, but this is doubtless an 
exaggeration. Dawson believes that not more than 
fifteen hundred provincials were engaged at any one 
time, though we think he underestimates the Massa- 
chusetts forces. 

The Boston streets saw many distressing sights as 
the dead and wounded officers and the wounded men 
were brought over to the town, the groans of those 
badly hurt and the cries of women and children proving 
more unnerving to many than the sight of the field 
had been. A procession of carriages soon took its way 
from the landing stages into the town, bearing dead 
and wounded, the first carriage containing the mortally 
wounded major and the three dead captains of the 
Fifty-second, among the dead poor Addison who had 
only arrived from England the day before and who was 
to have dined with Burgoyne that evening. 

To his dying day Howe remembered the lessons of 
Bunker Hill. Doubtless it would be a somewhat 
imaginative conjecture to attribute his growing morose- 
ness, his increasing desire to dull memories by question- 
able distractions, his lack of initiative, his gradual 
loss of grip, to the events of this summer afternoon. 
He was too sophisticated, too cynical a person to 

— 34 — 



exhibit such a permanent reaction to a single experience. 
The gradual deterioration, which, with every oppor- 
tunity for a brilliant career, his life illustrated had 
probably a far more subtle causation. But at least 
on his military philosophy and conduct the fight at 
Bunker Hill had its effect, and never afterward, if it 
was in any way avoidable, did he allow troops under 
his command to make a frontal assault on an en- 
trenched enemy. 

The effect of Bunker Hill on combat tactics is obvious 
and has already been alluded to. It is a significant 
fact that in that curious little volume called "Inchiquin, 
the Jesuit's Letters," published in this country in 1810, 
the anonymous author characterizes the inhabitants 
of the United States as "a free and martial people 
from whom the riflemen and sharpshooters 
that have become the most efficacious divisions of 
the armies of Europe, learnt their manual." 

Professor Albert Bushnell Hart has said that what 
the British really laid down at Bunker Hill was their 
military prestige. It seems to the writer that the 
statement needs some qualification. In so far as the 
result of the battle was a sense of encouragement 
to the revolting colonies and an assurance that the 
veteran troops of Britain were far from invincible, the 
assertion is quite true. But with the increasing years 
has come a keener appreciation of the amazing courage 
and discipline the British battalions exhibited on that 
occasion. So far as that feature is concerned the story 
of the battle has added to, rather than detracted from, 
the prestige of the British army. The descendants of 
the Americans who fought that day will be quite as 
ready as any one else to agree with Fortescue, who, in 
his history of that army, maintains that "the return of 
the British Infantry to the third attack, after two such 
bloody repulses, is one of the very greatest feats ever 
recorded of them." 



— 35 



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